ow
much more important mountains are as mountains, than mere gold-bearing
protuberances, and how much more precious rivers are as life-givers to
man and beast, rather than gold-bearers in their shifting sands.

We were glad to know that legislative enactments have been made upon
such mining processes, and that certain restrictions and limitations
are in force, to protect nature against wasteful greed, and the
reckless spoliation and destruction of mountain-side and valley stream.

After our climb up the mountain, towards evening we found ourselves at
Reno. A wait for supper is made here (we were, of course, independent
of such wayside places), during which we stretched our legs on the
platform, looking at the many odd-looking people in view.

A freakish notion got into me to be odd also, so, just to astonish the
natives, I donned my Japanese kimino, made of camel's-hair cloth of
light buff hue, reaching down to my heels. With this on, I dared one of
our ladies to walk with me, offering her my arm. This she did, with a
good grace, and we certainly were the observed, if not the admired, of
all observers.

Some of our party followed us at a little distance to gather up the
remarks. "Here comes Brigham Young, I guess," was one of them; another
was, "That's Pope Leo, ain't it?" and yet another was, "No, it's Bishop
Sommers." But in the midst of the fun, of which of course I seemed to
be oblivious, my eye caught the grave face of a simon-pure Jap, in
American dress, standing by, with eyes, as wide open as he could get
them, evidently mystified at my appearance. He could vouch certainly
for the genuineness of the kimino, but the _tout ensemble_ was too
much for him. I felt really sorry for the poor little Japanese, he
looked so lonesome, all alone in the crowd. Possibly he might have felt
badly that his possible brother countryman did not stop and speak with
him!

After leaving Reno, our way took us through Nevada, which we passed in
the night. When day dawned upon us we found ourselves in desolate
places, more lonely desert than anything we had yet seen. The following
poem by Charlotte Perkins Stetson most vividly describes the death-like
aspect of the place. It is called--

A NEVADA DESERT

"An aching, blinding, barren, endless plain;
Corpse-colored with white mould of alkali,
Hairy with sage-brush, shiny after rain,
Burnt with the sky's hot scorn, and still again
Sullenly burning back a